


care of the details

by sarcasm_and_sabres



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Violence, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_and_sabres/pseuds/sarcasm_and_sabres
Summary: From the prompt: Anthony Rizzo / Chris Sale / release me





	care of the details

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. Not a happy fic. I'm so sorry.

Anthony wakes to a miserable headache and groans. He really shouldn’t have drank so much last night.

He cracks his eyes open, expecting to see his bedroom around him, but he’s greeted with darkness and a certain mustiness to the room. And when he shifts, trying to rub his aching head, there’s a clank of metal and he can’t move his hands.

Suddenly wide awake despite the pain in his head, Anthony takes in his surroundings with more urgency. Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, he can make out stairs leading upwards, so he must be in some type of basement. Handcuffed to the wall in some type of basement.

“Tommy? CJ?” he yells, trying to resist the urge to yank at the handcuffs again. It’s the middle of the season, he can’t fuck up his wrists over what has to be a dumb prank. “Hilarious, guys! Now let me out!”

There’s no response, no muffled snickers from the door or somewhere in the darkness. Just silence and Anthony’s ever-growing fear.

“Come on, guys!” he yells, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It’s a prank. His teammates are just being dicks, and he absolutely will not give them the satisfaction of being visibly afraid. “Alright, fuck you all.”

He settles against the wall, resigning himself to waiting. If his teammates were gonna handcuff him in a basement, they could at least have cuffed only one hand and left him his phone and some food. Really, this is improper prank etiquette. He’ll have to scold them about it when they let him out.

Anthony has no sense of how long it’s been without being able to check his watch or phone, but he’s starting to get extremely uncomfortable. His headache has only gotten worse, and it’s now compounded by an ache in his shoulders from the angle that his hands are cuffed and his growling stomach. What, did his teammates fucking forget about him?

“Come the fuck on,” he growls, starting to strain against the handcuffs. “What, you wanna get a fucking rise out of me before you let me go? I’m gonna fucking kill you when I get outta here, this isn’t funny anymore. Let me the fuck go, unless you want me to end up on the DL. And when that happens I’ll have plenty of time to plot your deaths.”

There’s no answer, not even a rattling of the doorknob or any sign of other people around. Anthony yanks harder, feeling the metal cut harshly into his wrists from the force. The cuffs rattle but there’s no give in them or the pipes it appears that he’s cuffed to.

Try as he might, Anthony can’t fight off the fear building in his gut. If this was really a prank by his teammates, he doubts that they’d leave him alone for this long. If they’d been trying to get a hilarious video of him, they’d gotten him freaking out upon waking up and him getting pissed and threatening them. There’s no purpose in not giving up the gag by now, unless it’s not actually a gag.

So it seems like there’s a decent chance he’s been kidnapped for ransom then. He’s not exactly unknown in this city and someone desperate could have taken him to get either his money or that of his teammates. Unless this is a prank and his teammates just got distracted or called away by something. Either way, there doesn’t seem like anything he can do but wait, since it doesn’t seem like brute strength is going to get him out of these handcuffs.

Despite the discomfort, alone in the dark and with absolutely nothing to do, Anthony manages to drift off again. When he wakes, his headache has somewhat subsided but has been replaced by an incredibly dry throat. He groans and leans his head back against the wall behind him, then opens his eyes to look at the empty basement around him.

Except when he looks forwards, there’s a man sitting in front of him where a moment ago there had been nothing. Anthony sucks in a sharp breath and jerks backwards, succeeding in slamming his head against the wall and wrenching his arms.

“Hey there,” Chris Sale says. 

Anthony catches his breath, relaxing against the wall. “Hey, man. What’s going on? You get kidnapped too?”

Sale laughs, the faint lighting playing oddly across his face and making the sharp angles stand out harshly.

“No. In fact, this is my house.”

“What, from when you played for the White Sox?” Anthony asks, wishing his aching head wasn’t so sluggish. “Did my teammates put you up to this?”

Sale laughs again. “Not exactly. I doubt they’d be pleased by this.”

“What time is it? I’ve got a game tonight, I’d probably better get to Wrigley pretty soon.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be making that game,” Sale says, silky smooth, and Anthony freezes from where he’d been shifting in his bonds. 

“Sale, what—“ Anthony asks, swallowing around the sudden fear trying to choke him. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

“I had to test myself in a big game,” Sale says, getting to his feet so he towers over Anthony. Anthony’s not used to feeling small, especially not compared to someone who looks like they could be snapped by the Chicago wind, but he’s acutely aware of how powerless he is. “I’ve been too preoccupied with small stakes up until now. Gotta prove myself.”

“Prove yourself in what? You just won a World Series,” Anthony asks, but he’s pretty sure he’s not going to like the answer.

Sale disappears into the darkness, and Anthony strains his eyes, trying to see what the apparently deranged pitcher is up to. He slides back into view smoothly, every movement calculated. 

“See, it’s all about precision,” Sale says, running a thumb over the flat edge of a wicked looking knife. “Can’t try to rush or trick someone in this. It’s all about precision.”

“What the fuck, man?” Anthony asks, fear coursing through his veins. “You’re, what, a serial killer?”

“I’m so glad you understand,” Sale says. “I have to perfect my craft. It’s too easy, you see, to kill people nobody cares about, who nobody notices going missing.”

“Then why pick me?” Anthony asks, sending a fervent prayer up that he can appeal to Sale’s reason. “My disappearance will be noticed this afternoon. Why not work your way up to someone like me? If you release me, I won’t say anything, I swear. It can be our secret.”

Sale stares at him for a moment before a slow smile spreads across his face. “Nice try, but I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. This will be the true test of my skill. Don’t worry, I’m very good at what I do. They’ll find your body soon enough to identify it as you, so your family will get closure. I’m told people worry about that.”

“I’d like it better if I could see my family again,” Anthony whispers, gaze locked on the sharp blade way too close to him. “Please. Let me go. I’ll do whatever I want, just let me live.”

“Sorry, no,” Sale says, twirling the knife in his right hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll hardly feel a thing. You can close your eyes and you won’t even notice.”

“Please,” Anthony whispers, straining against the handcuffs one last time, desperately. He’s crying for the first time in years, hot tears streaming down his face as his heart beats frantically, apparently trying to make up for the time he’ll be losing when he dies before he even hits thirty.

Sale just shakes his head, lifting the knife. Though he doesn’t want to do as his murderer says, he closes his eyes and braces himself, tries to think of happy memories. Playing with his brother, hugging his mother, leaping into Kris’s arms as they won the World Series. He’d at least lived long enough to do that, even if he’ll never be able to repeat. All he can hope for, now, is that Sale has aimed too high and he’ll be brought to justice before he can kill anyone else.


End file.
